


The one where Crowley wonders how the Winchesters are still alive

by HikariYumi



Series: Hunting is dangerous [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley Has a Heart, Crowley is a Softie, Crowley likes the winchesters, Fluff, Gen, Hunting, Hunting gone wrong, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Dean, M/M, Short One Shot, Taking Care Of Dean, could be read as Drowley, exasperated Crowley, tending injuries, the winchesters are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:03:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11179548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HikariYumi/pseuds/HikariYumi
Summary: Hunting is dangerous and that's why the Winchesters get hurt sometimes. This time it's Dean and he's not dealing with it the way Crowley thinks he should be. So the king of hell takes care of that himself.





	The one where Crowley wonders how the Winchesters are still alive

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there.  
> I've found the beginning of this fanfic on my netbook and I couldn't do anything to remember where I wanted to go with this. I think this should be smutty? But I don't know, this text literally ended in the middle of a sentence...  
> So I took it and finished it how I felt it fitting right now.  
> It's nothing big, but to be honest, while watching it always bugged me how rarely the brothers get hurt, or to be more precise: how rarely they have to struggle with the aftermath. Seriously... :)  
> So yeah, that's that. Maybe I'll write more little things about Crowley (and Cas) taking care of those idiot brothers.  
> Hope you like it.  
> ~Hikari

It had been a long day and an even longer week. Dean shuffled over to the fridge nestled into the corner of the bunker’s kitchen and grabbed a bottle of his favorite beer. That was exactly what he needed right now or at least that was what he imagined would be helpful, together with a relaxed evening.  
  
“Maybe you should get some sleep as well, Dean. You could use it.” Sam raised an eyebrow at him before heading to his bedroom, just treating himself with a glass of water before doing so.

Dean slumped deeper into the cushions of the couch and stared at the TV screen for a long time before managing to angle for the remote to actually turn it on. Soon, the hunter's mind stopped paying attention to the action movie on screen and instead wandered off to little episodes of the day’s job. It hadn’t gone too well lately; more often than not the Winchesters had been surprised by well-organized nests and monsters with powerful backup.  
  
It had been exhausting and inconvenient, especially when Dean had bruised his right wrist in a hand to hand fight the day before. Handling a gun today had been painful, not too horrible, but enough to keep him slightly distracted, earning him the opportunity to relive how it felt to be thrown into a solid brick wall.

Dean jumped when suddenly the sofa cushions moved under him and ripped him out of his light dozing state. “What the fuck- Crowley?”  
  
“Hello darling, why are you looking so spooked?”  
  
The demon leaned back into the backrest casually, legs crossed in the confident way of his, smirking up at him.  
  
“Maybe because you just popped up right next to me? Be glad that I didn’t shoot you.”

Crowley chuckled, not appearing worried the slightest. “Oh, we both know that you wouldn’t do that, we’re besties.” He sobered up quickly though when Dean sighed and flinched minutely at the movement.  
  
“You’re hurt again. How are you even doing that? Don’t tell me those weaklings actually got to you?”  
  
“Oh shut up.”

The hunter angled for his beer only to discover that it was already empty.  
  
“Let me look at that.” Out of nowhere Crowleys hand closed around Deans arm and pulled it closer. The Winchester was confused for a second before he realized that it was his sprained limb and that the bruised wrist was swollen. “You’re a moron, you’re both morons, how are you even still alive?”  
  
Crowley shook his head in disbelief while he carefully touched the flesh that felt a lot warmer than it should be.  
  
“This isn’t from today, is it? You’re going hunting when you’re not even able to properly shoot a gun? Oh, you’ve got no idea what I want to do with you right now.”

Dean raised an eyebrow at the demon, annoyed about the fuss Crowley made over such a minor inconvenience.  
  
“Show me the rest.” Oh, it had been a while since the Winchester heard that voice the last time, this wasn’t the snarky demon anymore, this voice meant business. More out of habit that conscious decision - John had used this intonation on jobs when they had been able to accompany him - Dean complied.  
  
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. Have you even looked at yourself?”

He hadn’t, so Dean let his shirt fall to the floor and walked over to the next mirror the bunker had surprisingly many of. It looked worse than he had imagined, most of his back was colored in different shades of purple, one spot on his side was even bordering on black. All in all, it didn’t look too healthy and explained why moving hurt like a bitch. Apparently, the impact had been bad enough that the outcome would affect Dean for the next couple of days.

“Anything else?” Crowley huffed resigned when the hunter returned to the sofa. He shrugged and attempted to bend down to retrieve his shirt. “Stop that, you’re not sleeping in a shirt anyway, don’t bother to put it on again.”  
  
This was the moment when Dean was supposed to flip him a finger or give a witty retort, but actually, Crowley had a point there.

~

If someone would’ve asked him, the Winchester hadn’t been able to tell how he had ended up in his bedroom after that, but he did. He had to admit that his bed did look pretty inviting, but his experience told Dean that he wouldn’t find much rest this night anyway.  
  
“Lay down.” Crowley stared at Dean until the hunter backed off and really let himself fall down onto the mattress.

Behind his back he could hear a sharp snap of fingers and concluded that the demon had conjured something up. His attempt to gather a look on whatever it was, was stopped right at the beginning. “It would make things easier if you would do what other people say for a change.”  
  
Despite the rough words; Crowley sounded more exasperated than seriously displeased. Dean slumped a bit deeper and cushioned his head on his arms. It was a bit uncomfortable to not be able to see what the demon was doing behind his back, but at this point exhaustion hit Dean hard enough that he didn’t care as much as he normally would. When it came down to it, he did trust Crowley in some sense, and until now the king of hell never betrayed him or his brother.

“Hold still now, that’ll heal the damage in a few hours as long as you don’t run right off into the next trouble,” Crowley explained just before the broad hands touched his back lightly. The fingers felt cool and slippery giving Dean the urge to itch where the salve-like lotion had been applied.  
  
The demon was gentle and thorough in his ministrations and he didn’t stop there. After a few minutes of quiet action, Crowley’s hands disappeared and instead the demon got into view holding out a hand expectantly. The fingers were coated with light green ointment that smelled distinctly like sulfur but it didn’t appear alarming to the hunter. So he slowly raised a bit to grant Crowley access to his wrist, even sighing a bit in relief when the cold soothed the steady throbbing pain Dean had ignored for the past day.  
  
“Idiot-boy.”

Whatever this salve had been, there must’ve been more to it than just painkillers and healing-helpers because Dean had fallen asleep five minutes after Crowley had announced that he was finished. He couldn’t even remember how he had continued his undressing or even if the demon still had been present at that point.  
  
Still, it had provided the hunter a night of rest he normally wouldn’t have gotten, so he actually mused if he should ask Crowley for some of the ointment for another time.

Once again the king of hell materialized out of nowhere right next to him, or more precisely his bed. “Thinking about getting up already? Let me have a look first.”  
  
Crowley didn’t wait for him to catch up this time and instead just snatched Dean’s hand out of mid-air.   
  
“Hey!”  
  
Ignoring the hunter's protests, the demon just turned the arm surprisingly skilfully as well as carefully. Dean raised his gaze to study the other man’s mimic but he just found eyes staring back at him. The intensity forced him to look down quickly, trying to pull back his arm, but Crowley maintained the grip without any visible effort.

“It feels as good as new again. Thanks, um, you know?” The hunter fidgeted, slightly uncomfortable, but to his relief Crowley let go of his hand after deeming his inspection over. “And um, I thought maybe you could borrow me a bit of this stuff? It’s honestly pretty awesome and I think it would come in handy after the jobs.”  
  
“You’re planning on getting injured again?” The demon raised a judging eyebrow at him that always succeeded in making Dean feel like a little kid again.  
  
“Not planning exactly… But you know, better be prepared?”  
  
When Crowley didn’t comment but was still giving him that damn look he added: “It’s been rough lately, I don’t know why but the monsters seem to become stronger more connected. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you ask for backup?”  
  
Dean sighed and leaned against the backrest, letting out a silent ‘oh’ when it didn’t hurt as much as he expected it to.  
  
“I don’t know, most of the hunters we or dad knew are dead and another lot more aren’t too keen on getting involved with us. Not that I blame them.”  
  
He could feel Crowley’s eyes burning on him with the fierceness that made – quite rightly – people shiver with respect.  
  
“Let me ask that again. Why don’t you ask _me_  for backup?”

Dean blinked once, twice, before the demons second eyebrow quirked up as well.  
  
“Well, you’ve to understand, Crowley, you haven’t been too forthcoming with your help until now. Once you nearly let us get killed before deciding that we might be worth saving!”  
  
The demon sent him an odd look, not commenting on Dean's accusations but sighing exasperatedly. Silence spread between them while Crowley took a look at the now only faint bruises remaining on the hunter’s chest. Nodding a last time he backed off from the bed and hesitated a second before saying: “I don’t want you to die. Yes, you’re both behaving like children in grown-up bodies sometimes but I’m sure as hell not underestimating you. We’re allies, I help you, you help me, that’s how it works, squirrel. And to be honest, I would prefer not having you dying just yet.”

Then the demon was gone as suddenly as he’d arrived and Dean wondered if maybe, just maybe Crowley actually liked them.


End file.
